


Black SUV, The

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-15
Updated: 2004-01-15
Packaged: 2019-05-30 20:03:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	Black SUV, The

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  


**The Black SUV**

**by:** pung

**Character(s):** Leo, Jordan  
**Pairing(s):** Leo/Jordan  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Disclaimer(s):** All characters but Hannah are the creation of Aaron Sorkin. Yadda-yadda-yadda.  
**Summary:** Takes place the night of and the following morning after Abbey's Birthday Bash.  
**Author's Note:** Please note that in this, and in future stories I will be playing fast and loose with some issues including Secret Service Protection, social protocal at embassy functions, and F.B.I. investigations of citizens. Although I will try to present a logical turn of events regarding those issues, forgive me for my lack of research. This is for fun. Research is not fun. Leo having sex on the kitchen table is fun. Shall we get to it?  

All characters but Jack and Hannah belong to Aaron Sorkin. This takes place sometime during the Presidential campaign.

11:25pm.

She had grown used to last minute changes in their plans. What was supposed to be a quiet dinner at an out-of-the-way restaurant on the Beltway, became a late salad supper at her townhouse. She puttered around the kitchen, and he set the table while he told her a funny story about a meeting he and Bruno had with some DNC big-wig, who was going on and on about ads and whistle-stops.

"Bruno sat there, with a face you couldn't chip with an ice-pick," Leo said. "I could tell he was just biding his time, waiting for the meeting to be over so he could say he had MET with the guy and then go and do whatever he damn well pleased."

She looked fondly at him. He was facing away from her, absently scratching Cleo's ears while he continued his story. Their relationship had entered a new phase. He had a key to her apartment now-they never met at his hotel. She had cleared out a drawer and room in the closet for him. His spare shaving kit was under the bathroom sink. They were comfortable with this relationship, and did not feel the need to put a name to it.

He was not a man for endearments or pet names. Occasionally, he would call her "Councilor" in a way that made her shiver. He didn't send flowers or candy or cards, but when he came back from the trip to Bancock, he brought her a silk robe that took her breath away. She was wearing it now. When he had to go to New York overnight, he came back with truffles from a haute cuisine shop she had told him about. When she had a problem with a case, he would sit and listen, ask questions, and then let her come to her own decision. In public, his manners were formal-he did not hold her hand, or show any sign of his affection. In private, he was quite different. He would touch her as he passed by, as he did now, his arm going around her and carressing her hip as he reached for the salt and pepper shakers. They usually ate at the breakfast nook, a half-moon padded bench with a sturdy round table she had found in a flea market. She served up the salad and fresh bread, enjoying his good mood.

There were some nights when he would arrive late, tired and obviously pre-occupied. She never pressed him for conversation, knowing there was so much of his work he could not talk about. On those nights, she would let him be silent, and she knew their lovemaking was a escape from the world outside.

Other nights, like tonight-he would be focused on being with her. They ate and talked. He made coffee while she tidyed the kitchen. She felt him come up behind her - felt his breath on her neck. She stopped and reached for a towel to dry her hands. His own hands slipped around her waist, and his arms wrapped her in an embrace while his lips found her ear. She wrapped her own arms around his, holding him there while her neck arched against his chin. Lips traveling down her neck to her nape, and his hands traveled up, stroking her breasts thru the silk. She was just about to turn in his arms when they were both startled by the sound of the door chimes. She glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. He followed her to the door. When she turned on the porch light, she saw Hannah's husband Jack standing on the landing. Looking, as always, like six and a half feet of embarrassment.

"Jack, is everything alright?" she said when she opened the door.

"Oh, Yeah, Jordan...everything's fine...I mean-uh, Hi, Leo."

"Hey, Jack." Leo said.

"I'm sorry to be stopping by so late, but I saw the light on...and..well, I'm probably crazy, I mean, it's probably NOTHING..."

"What is it, Jack?"

"Well, I just...I mean I saw Leo's car...and-well, there's something I've been noticing...I'm in the middle of a big aquisition right now, so I've been getting home late-in fact, You know Hannah-I came home last night, and she had put post-it's on all the pictures of me that say "THIS IS DADDY"...."

"Jack," Jordan said smiling,"You were saying..."

"Uh, RIGHT. Well, it's just that I've noticed lately...there's this black SUV that's been parked up the street some nights...and I noticed that it's always here when Leo's car is here...never parked in the same PLACE, mind you...just AROUND, you know...and it got me a bit worried..."

Leo smiled and held up his hand. "It's O.K. Jack..."

"I mean, maybe I'm just being paranoid..."

"No, Jack, you're not. It IS there when I'm here. It's SUPPOSED to be there."

Jack stood speechless a moment before the light dawned. "OH!" he said finally, "Oh, well...in THAT case..."

"Don't worry about it, Jack."

"Right...well, then, I'll say good night."

"Good Night, Jack. Thanks for lookin' out for me."

"Yeah, well-Good Night, then." Jack fubbled with his keys. "I said that already, didn't I?" 

"Tell Hannah we say hello." Jordan laughed as she closed the door.

She watched Leo walk back in the kitchen, and then followed him as far as the doorway. "We're being watched?" she asked, leaning against the door frame. "You've never told me that."

"Well, I didn't want to worry you."

"Why?"

"Because you're a worrier."

"NO, Leo...WHY are we being watched?"

He turned around and leaned against the kitchen counter. His face was a study as he reached for just the right words. "Look, you know my guy Eddie?"

"Sure. The one who saw us necking in the limo." Leo grinned.

"Well...there are LEVELS to the kind of ...protection that's required for White House Personel. For me, it's generally just Eddie or Mac. GENERALLY meaning..."

"In the best of times." she responded.

"Yes. The Secret Service determines the level of protection, based on a lot of different factors. The situation in the Middle East warrents a higher level of protection. That's all." "Nothing specific?" she said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, have there been specific threats against you?"

He walked toward her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Look...."

"Are you in danger, Leo?"

"No." he said gently. She looked him in the eye, unflinching. "And there have been specific threats against me-there have been since the day The President took office. They all get investigated, they all get acted on."

"Why do I feel like you're glossing over things so I won't worry?"

"Well, you shouldn't-because if there were a REAL threat, Jack would NEVER have spotted the detail." Looking in his eyes, she realised she had no choice but to accept his words. Then something occurred to her that made her smile. Leo noticed. "What?" he said.

She moved out of the doorway and picked up her coffee cup. "So...those guys sit outside in the SUV while you and I..." She started to giggle.

"It's a very COMFORTABLE SUV, I'm told." he said.

She began to laugh. "I feel just like Lucy Mancini!"

"Who?" he asked. "Sonny Corleone's mistress in "The Godfather."

He picked up his own mug. "I never read that book." he said.

"You never read "The Godfather?"

"I've never been much for modern novels-and I was a labor lawyer even before I was Labor Secretary, remember? I've had enough exposure to organised crime."

"You never saw any of the movies?"

"Which was the one with the horse's head?"

"That was the first one."

"I saw that one. A long time ago." She shook her head at him. He smiled at her. "So...tell me why you feel like this Lucy Mancini." His voice had gone low, in a way she knew was an invitation. She was ready to play. She put down her coffee cup, and began to loosen his tie while she told him the story.

"When the Corleone's were fighting a war with the rest of the Five Families, Sonny Corleone would sneak into the city to visit Lucy at her apartment. His goons rented the apartment next door to hers so that they could protect him."

"He did this, often, did he?" Leo said, as she flipped his tie behind her onto the counter. "Once a week." she said, as she began to undo his shirt buttons. "As soon as she knew he was on his way, she would stock up the fridge, and wait for her lover's arrival. The moment he came thru the door, she was all over him." She leaned in and slipped his shirt off his shoulders. "She would tear his clothes off...and *HE* didn't wear a t-shirt..."

Leo chuckled as she pulled his t-shirt out of his trousers, and pulled it up over his head. His hands came down and tugged at the sash of her robe.

"And what was he doing all this time?" he whispered in her ear.

"Oh...guess," she whispered back. The knot now undone, he parted the robe and pulled her to him, his hands now free to explore her bare flesh. She pull her arms around his neck and relished the rough feeling of his chest hair against her breasts. His lips found her neck again, and he began a familiar teasing game. She loved to kiss him and he knew it. His lips and tongue would travel over her neck and shoulders, caress her ears, skirting her open mouth and moving away from it, until her patience was at an end, and she would hold his head still as she did now and find his mouth. He pressed her against the counter with his body, and his hand slipped down to caress her from behind. She raised one leg and wrapped it around his hip, and his fingers slipped in and began to indulge her. She gasped into his mouth, and kissed him again. Reaching down, she stroked him through his trousers and was rewarded with a growing hardness. He reached both hands under her bottom and lifted her onto the counter. His mouth now level to her breasts, he slipped the robe down and began to nussle her nipple. She pulled him closer, and her back arched from the pleasure he was giving her. His fingers found her again. She leaned back and promptly smacked her head on the cabinet door.

"Ouch!" she said, straightening up. He pulled back and looked at her.

"Are you alright?" he said, trying not to laugh.

"I'm FINE." she said. "Nothing bruised but my ego." She smiled down at him."That sort of thing never happened to Lucy."

He grinned back at her, looked around and lifting her off the counter, carried her to the broad kitchen table. "Did THIS ever happen to Lucy?" he said as he laid her down.

 She layed back, her legs straddling his hips as he stood at the tables edge, looking down at her. He leaned forward, and his hands combed thru her hair as he kissed her. She stroked his shoulders, and reached down for his belt, but he pulled just far enough away from her that she couldn't grasp it. His hands began to stroke her. His hands. She watched them on their journey. Strong hands capable of such gentleness and passion. There were times when they were out in public, when she would catch sight of those hands, wrapped around a glass, or guiding down the edge of a menu, and passion would rise at the thought of them on her skin. As they were now, patiently finding their way over her. She took hold of his wrists gently and tried to press them down toward her center, but he had his own agenda, and continued to roam. Her breasts ached from his attentions, ached for the feel of his mouth, and soon he bent and his lips touched her belly. His tongue drew a path upward and trace the nipple of one breast until she drew him down and held him there. He pulled away from her eventually-moving down again. He pressed his lips to her core and she moaned out loud. Finally he began to move up her body again, and she raised up and unbuckled his belt and frantically pulled his zipper down. Reaching above her head to the edge of the table, he pulled himself up on top of her, and they kissed again. She found him ready for her, and she pressed him inside of her. Using his hands on the table's edge, he thrust into her, his face above her ridged with passion. She gripped his bottom, urging him on to quicken his pace. Within minutes, their raw coupling reached it's peak, and he groaned aload, and buried his face in her neck. Sliding off the table, he sat back on the round bench, trying to catch his breath. He looked at her and smiled, then reached out to pull her onto his lap. They sat there a moment, their breathing returning to normal, their arms around each other.

"So..." he said, finally, "Read any other good books lately?"

She giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Fanny Hill..." she whispered. "Chaucer..." he replied.

"Oh, will you make love to me in 'Ol' English'?" "Yah." he said. "Shall we continue this upstairs?"

She got up and pulled her robe on, amused at the sight of her lover yanking his pants up, and picking up his discarded shoes and clothes. They walked thru the foyer toward the stairs.

"Oh, I almost forgot." he said. Digging into his suit jacket, he pulled out a buff colored envelope and handed it to her. She opened it and read the card inside, richly scrolled in raised black letters.

"The Ambassador Requests...." it began.

**The Next Story in the Series:** "The Ambassador Requests" 


End file.
